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THE 

INGS DREAM 

OR WAR 

ITS CAUSE, EFFECT 
AND REMEDY 




WHALEY 



I 



RAiraER PRINimO COMPANY 
SEATTLE 



TO 

HENRY FORD 
*The Peacemaker" 

This little book is respectfully dedicated 
by the Author 



COPYRIGHT 1916 
by 

CHARLES FAUSTUS WHALEY 

913 First Avenue West 

Seattle, Wash. 



MAY 23 1916 



THE KING'S DREAM 

OR WAR 



ITS CAUSE. EFFECT 
AND REMEDY 




PRICE 25 CTS. PAPER 
CLOTH 50 CTS. 



BY 
CHARLES FAUSTUS WHALEY 

Founder of the Peacemaker's Society of the 



State of Washington 



FOREWORDS 



And now, since man has fallen and returned 
To barbarism, where the strongest win. 
And where the weak creep closer to the v/all 
And might is right, and mercy has no place — 
The Star of Bethlehem has ceased to shine. 
And Christendom has lost its law divine. 

And since the devastating hand of war 
Has burned our homes, and ruined all the land 
Where women starve, and children beg for bread. 
The soil is soaked with blood of brave young men ; 
Rank thistles grow where once grew waving grain ; 
Now, all our tears, and all our prayers, are vain. 

One day a man in arrant folly said : 

"To safeguard peace we must prepare for war.** 

I say if you prepare for war 'twill come. 

No matter how diplomacy may watch. 

The hut will burn if you ignite the thatch. 

No matter which crown-head applies the match. 




CI.A4311V4 



THE KING'S DREAM 

(As Related by Himself) 



PROLOGUE 

All day the King was seated on his horse 
And rode from place to place ; while in review 
His army passed in glittering pageantry ; 
And as he saw them marching by, he said : 
"These are my third reserves, and yet how fine. 
They bear themselves like veterans of the line ; 
And I will send them to the battle front 
To fill the ranks so lately thinned by slaughter. 
And prove to all my foes my power to rule.'* 



And thus the day wore on, the busy day. 
Train after train departed with its load 
Of gay young men who, from their finger tips. 
Threw kisses to their loved ones left behind, 
And sang to them, "Goodbye, sweetheart, good- 
bye;" 
As for the weeping maidens, more anon. 



Eight Prologue 



And now the day was done and half the night 
Was also gone in council and debate 
Concerning all the mighty cares of state; 
The King was weary, and they said to him : 

**Oh, King! you must have rest: prepare for 

I»» 
eep. 



"Sleep! sleep!** said he; *'I may not sleep; 

I will not go to bed, 
For then I hear them weep, and weep. 

And beg, and beg for bread. 

A multitude with faces white 

Stand close around my bed 
And cry, and cry throughout the night. 

And always beg for bread. 

An aged woman standing there. 
With bent and snow-white head. 

Continually repeats her prayer — 
'Oh, King! bring back my dead.* 



Prologue ^i^^ 

A little child with bloodstained feet 
Crowds through the weeping throng. 

And asks in voice so sad and sweet, 
'Will papa come 'fore long?' 

A widow with her babe at breast. 

Whose face shows toil and tan. 
With strength of arm shoves back the rest 
And makes me no meek request. 

But shouts, 'Where is my man?' 

I will array me for the night 

And to my throne repair. 
The throne room has a sacred right. 

Unasked, none enter there. 

Here will I sit upon my throne 

And sleep here if I must; 
I will not hear them cry and moan 

And beg me for a crust." 




THE DREAM 



The King Sleeps 

And now a band of women from the fields. 
Where they had labored through the heat of day 
To save a pittance for the nation's bread. 
Came in: Great, stately dames and graceful girls; 
Fit consort, each, for soldier or for king ; 
And with them came the astral forms of men — 
Brave hearted men who went forth at my call 
To conquer every land that I might rule 
The world ; and set my foot upon the neck 
Of all my rivals ; and be King of Kings. 



— *- 



How many men had sacrificed their lives 
In this my jealous cause I could not tell ; 
But judging from the cloud of astral forms 
That floated o'er the heads of these fair dames 
(Saluting me and passing out again). 
Their number must have been uncountable. 



The Dream Eleven 



And now these dames produced a rope of straw, 
Made from the scattered stems upon the field. 
And said to me: "Oh, King! come now with us. 
The harvest is secured and we must go 
Out to the battle front that we may help 
Subdue the world, and all therein, for you." 
*'No! No!" said I. *'I cannot go; my place 
Is here where I can get the latest news 
And tell my men which neighbor next to kill." 
But they came up prepared to tie my hands. 
And when I smiled at bands of straw they said: 
"This rope is braided from green, oaten straw 
By those who know the cunning weave of strength. 
It will suffice, no fear of that; come on." 
"But wail,' 'said I ; "let me put on my clothes — 
My kingly ropes and boots and sword of steel." 
And then they said, "Not so ! You must be one 
Of us this day ; here is a pair of sabots. 
Put them upon your feet ; and this smock frock 
Will serve your need, for we have lately learned 
That all your greatness and your power to rule 
Lie in your raiment, not within yourself. 



"*- 



Twelve The Dream 



And we have learned that you are just a man 

Like otlier men, with pride and love of self. 

And jealousy ; and hatred of your kind. 

And that your right divine is in your mind 

And in the minds of those who follow you. 

Your great ambition and your thirst for fame 

Have rendered you unfit to be our King, 

And we have cast you forth from out our hearts 

And shut the doors thereof, and fastened them. 

Now, you must come with us and count the graves 

And see the carnage and the strife you cause." 

And so they tied my hands and passed the rope 

About my body thrice, and started forth — 

A multitude, all pulling on this band 

Of straw, which I was powerless to break. 

I soon discovered that to keep my feet 

I must proceed with speed. Ah ! how they ran. 

Those women in their sabots. I, too, ran 

To keep from falling prone. At last I said, 

"Why run so fast? My sabots hurt my feet?" 

They made reply: "Our sabots all have wings 

And love inspires our flight : our loved ones wait. 

We must be there in time to succor them 

If they be yet alive: to bury them 

If they be dead. Come on! Come on!'* they said. 

And faster yet o'er field and fen they sped. 



The Dream Thirteen 



We soon come to a fair and fertile land. 

Divided into many little fields 

Like garden spots, with hedges all abloom 

And crops ungathered: yet no sign of life. 

No human form or living thing was seen. 

Some cottages with broken roofs remained. 

While smoking walls and piles of ashes marked 

The spot where only yesterday there lived 

A family of happy peasant folk. 

And now, alas ! a stillness as of death 

Hung over all the land. "Where to," said I, 

"Are all the people gone? or are they dead?*' 

"The few that still survive are driven out 

Before your mighty army," then they said. 

"And though they tried to shield themselves 

against 
Your mighty hosts, they soon gave in and ran 
Like sheep before a pack of hungry wolves." 



"Come on," they said; "don't talk; the day is 

spent 
And night is coming on;" away they went. 
And I, their captive king, sans robe, sans crown. 



Fourteen The Dream 



Sped after them apace; now up, now down, 
With falls galore, with bleeding hands and feet 
No horseless king e'er made a race so fleet. 



Some smoking ruins of small villages 

We passed, and came at length unto the walls. 

The broken, blackened, smouldering walls of 

what 
At least must once have been a city of 
Magnificence, the home of cultured men 
And women of refinement, and of grace. 
For one could see outlined against the west. 
Where yet a pale, red light of day remained. 
The broken shapes of minarets and spires. 
Cathedral domes half torn away by shells. 



My captors here began to look about. 
And, tying me securely to a post 
Which later I discovered was a shaft 
Of blackened marble, broken at the top. 
Made off with all the speed they could employ. 



The Dream Fifteen 



Without adieus, nor even looked my way. 

Each with a spade (procured, I knew not where), 

They simply ran away, and left me there. 

And here was I, a great and mighty king. 

Tied to a post, like any captive slave. 

With bands of straw. A voice said, *'BehoId! 

How cheap a thing is kingship without force. 

A king without an army is a man 

Of no avail, without the power to rule. 

A man like other men, no more, no less ; 

And often quite inferior. Indeed, 

If you should put him to the test of worth. 

Or merit, as you try out other men. 

You soon would find his utter worthlessness 

And say, 'Oh ! never mind — he'll do for a king.' 

Some grand and noble emperors we've had. 

And kings and queens, and rulers with a heart; 

Grand sovereigns they, who ruled by love alone ; 

'Twas Nature, not their title, made them great. 

And yet if you should read the history 

Of kings and emperors in days gone by. 

From old Caligula and Nero down. 

You surely must agree with me, I think, 

That kings are only kings by circumstance." 



Sixteen The Dream 



*'Who speaks?*' said I, and forthwith there ap- 
peared 
A man arrayed in garments red with blood, 
Within one hand a staff; the other held 
A lantern, which gave forth a light, blood red. 
Who made reply : "My name is writ in blood. 
My rightful name is Carnage. I am called 
The God of Strife. My duty is to keep 
The evil in the heart of every man 
At boiling pitch that he may ^z7/, and ^i//. 
And show no mercy — only strive and ^i7/ — 
I am your servant and am sent for you — 
I am to be your guide throughout this night.*' 



At which he thrust his staff within the ground. 
The knob of which burst forth a radiant gleam 
Of light, and made the ruins round about 
More ghastly seem. And then I saw how red 
His garments were. 'Twas but a single sheath 
That fitted him skin tight from head to foot. 
And glistened in the artificial light 
Like paint but newly laid, with varnish mixed. 



The Dream Seventeen 

He severed now my bands and said, "Oh, King, 
Come now with me, for I have many sights 
And scenes which are of interest to me, 
And will, I hope, much please your majesty." 
But when I did essay to follow him 
My sabots both came off, at which I said, 
"Please wait; I've lost my sabots in the mud." 
He made reply, " 'Tis little loss; henceforth 
Our path leads out across the field of strife. 
The soil of which is saturated with 
The blood of many noble-hearted men. 
To that extent that bare feet will be best. 
And that which you call "mud" is sacred soil. 
The moisture of that mix is human blood; 
Not only that, but innocent as well. 
The pillar where the women bound you fast 
Was one which helped to hold the archway to 
The door which led into a sacred place ; 
And when your gallant army came in view 
Hundreds of frightened men and women ran 
Into the holy place, and, falling on 
Their knees, besought Almighty God to send 
Deliverance: and then a brutal mob of men 
Rushed in and killed their victims by the score 
Until their blood o'erfilled the sacred place 
And ran a common flood out of the door. 



Eighteen The Dream 

Oh, King ! it was a pretty sight to see, 
Tliat crimson flood descend the marble steps— 
At least it seemed a pretty sight to me. 
Then, setting fire to this holy place, 
They, laughing, went their way. "Come, now,*' 
said he; 

And I will show you how they did their work." 
I followed him within the inner wall. 
Where there arose a stench which stifled me. 
"Stop here,*' said I; "what is this awful smell?'* 
*'Why speak you thus?" he said. "Why call it 
smell ? 

" 'Tis but the fragrance of a sacrifice. 
The perfume of some smouldering human flesh 
Which once inhaled can never be forgot. 
To stifle it your efForts must prove vain. 
Through this world and the next it will remain. 
I fear you are fastidious ; but come. 
We must be on our way and loiter not. 
When day arrives I must be at my post 
To urge the conflict on, to catch the blood." 
"To catch the blood," said I; "what for, I pray?" 
"We understand that you have called for blood 
And we are saving what we can from field 
And hospital alike to make your bath." 



The Dream Nineteen 



"My God," thought I, "what sort of man is 

this?" 
And as I walked along, a barefoot king, 
I kept within the dim, uncertain light 
Of that red lantern, guarding well my steps 
Lest I should fall. I stumbled o'er the form 
Of some one lying prone upon the ground. 
"Stop, here!" said I; "and show a better hght." 
He thrust the staff within the ground, and there 
Upon the street the body of a man — 
An aged man — lay prone, face down, or would 
Have been face down had not the aged head 
Been severed from the trunk and rolled away — 
Lay staring up through sightless eyes at us — 
Each hand, outstretched, held in a deathly grasp 
Half of the severed body of a child — 
"What does this mean?" I asked in great alarm. 
"It means," said he, "that when your army rode 
Up through this city street, this aged sire 
Was crossing with this child upon his back. 
One of your men, a gallant, brave, young knight. 
Rode quickly up, and with one sabre stroke 
He killed them both, then, laughing, rode away. 
And yet there was but very little blood — 
The grandsire was too old, the babe too young." 
Said I, "Why do you always prate of blood?" 



Twenty The Dream 

*'I am the God of Strife and must have blood ; 
Blood is for war and war for blood," he said. 
And I was sick at heart, but followed on. 
Nor called for light again ; yet well I knew 
That many dead men lay along the way. 
At length we came upon a country road 
And walked along, when from a cottage gate 
Came forth a ghostly object, clothed in white. 
I paused and said, "Halt here, and show a light." 
And there before us stood a maid most fair. 
Upon whose head a wealth of golden hair. 
Like Nature's crown, untethered and unkempt. 
Gave back the light like glint of glitt'ring stars. 
Her soft, blue eyes, tear-drowned, made mute ap- 
peal; 
Also her arms, outheld, disclosed the fact 
That both her hands were severed at the wrists. 
There, mute, she stood, while tears rolled down 

her cheeks. 
"What means this horrid sight?*' I said to hiro 
"It means," said he, "an officer of rank, 
A man with many medals on his breast. 
Espied this maid in all her beauty rare. 
And said, 'I must posses her, foul or fair.' 
But when he did essay to capture her 
She tore his face to tatters with her nails. 



The Dream Twenty-one 



At which he cut her hands off with his sword. 
She saved her virtue but she lost her hands. 
Which was a foohsh bargain on her part. 
For since we have returned to barbarism, 
Where might is right, here, virtue has no place."^^ 
"Why stands she mute?" Why speaks she not?" 

said I. 
"She cannot speak, her tongue went with her 

hands," 
Said he; and, taking up his staff, he marched 

along. 
"My God!" said I, *'does war so brutalize 
A man that he can thus maltreat a maid?" 
"Of peasant's blood, a few drops, more or less. 
In times of war is never marked. Besides, 
He lost some blood himself," was all he said. 
i then bethought to ask him of the maids 
And matrons who had brought me here to him. 
"Oh ! they have gone to dig some trenches wide 
And deep upon the batde field, where now 
For seven days the slaughter has been fierce. 
A grave promiscuous to conceal their dead — - 
Live men dig trenches for themselves," he said. 



■♦• 



Twenty-two The Dream 

We now were passing through another town. 
Or what was left of one. Thrusting his staff 
Into the ground, we saw a blood-stained wall. 
"Against this wall," said he, "is where they shot. 
Deliberately killed an hundred men — 
An hundred inoffensive, unarmed men — 
Because they could not pay the price demanded. 
And served them right, the wasteful prodigals." 



■♦ 



And after we had walked what seemed to me 
To be an hundred miles we came unto 
A place that showed the ravages of war. 
Great holes like cellars torn in all the fields 
By the explosion of great shells : and trees. 
Great trees were severed at the base, as though 
Some giant with his axe of stone had hewn 
Them down, and pounded them to fragments on 
The ground. "Here now," said he, "I want to 

show 
You something new in warfare, quite unique." 
And when the light he made flashed out, I saw 
A dozen men or more in uniforms. 
A group of officers and men, stone dead. 
Some seated at a table, some apart ; 



The Dream Twenty-three 



One soldier leaning on his gun as if 

On guard, stood there, at "order arms" — quite 

dead. 
Their faces and their uniforms ahke 
Appeared to be in color ashen gray. 
Or the color of gray stone, and I said, 
*'What happened here? are these men petrified?'* 
"About the same," said he. "A lyddite shell 
Burst just above this camp, the deadly fumes 
Of which killed all these men at once. They died 
Without the shghtest sense of pain; also. 
Without the drawing of a second breath. 
Tiie use of lyddite shells, however, now 
We have tabooed, because we get no blood.* 
"But who is this,*' said I, "who kneels apart 
In attitude of prayer?" "Oh! that," said he, 
"Is one they call a chaplain or 'divine,' 
Of which there are on both sides of the line 
A goodly number, praying night and morn 
Unto the selfsame God to help him kill 
His brother. Oh! King, how long can this thing 

be? 
Does it not seem a wicked, cruel farce 
To ask Almighty God to help you kill?" 
How cheap that man must hold his God who thus 
Can pray. "Oh, Lord, give us the victory.*' 



Twenty-four The Dream 

An army chaplain's prayer for victory 
Reminds me of the howling of a wolt 
Which, baffled in the catching of its prey. 
Sits down and howls for help. "Come on," said 

he. 
"For now we must proceed with greater carej 
The field in front of us is strewn with dead. 
Horses and men are piled together there." 
Indeed, we had not gone so very far 
Till I become aware that it was true. 
The ground was fairly covered with dead men. 
With sabres, swords and bayonets all drawn. 
For in the act of killing they were killed. 
"Make here a tight," I said; "I'm walking in 
The faces of the dead and yet withal 
I've cut my feet upon their bayonets." 
"Oh, happy, happy heroes," he began, 
"To have a king considerate enough 
To dofF his shoes before he treads upon 
Their upturned faces ; and thus to be baptized 
With royal blood from sacred royal feet." 



The Dream Twenty-five 



**Come on, Oh, King," he said; "we must pro- 
ceed. 
But I had heard a mournful cry, and said, 
*'What cry is that? Is some one yet ahve 
In this dread place?" "Impossible," said he; 
"There's been no fighting here these three days 

past. 
And yet upon strict search we found a man, 
A wounded man, stretched prone upon the ground 
Between a pile of dead men and a horse. 
And he was crying, "Water! Oh! Water!" 
I snatched his helmet up and from a pool 
Nearby brought him a drink ; and how he drank. 
And seemed refreshed. "How came you here 
And yet alive?" I asked. He made reply, 
"Some days ago (I know not now just when). 
While in a charge, a piece of shrapnel tore 
This arm away. I started to the rear. 
Forgetting that the orders were to stay. 
And not retreat, no matter what befell. 
Else we should be considered foes and shot 
This bullet through my lungs was from the gun 
Of one of my companions in the rear. 
And now, my man, if you were mine own king 
I could not feel more grateful than I do 
For all your gentle kindness unto me. 



Twenty-six The Dream 

I know the peasant heart is always kind. 
Be pleased to fill my helmet to the brim 
And place it here beside me, in my reach. 
That I may quench my thirst and die in peace." 
**You must not die like this," I said to him. 
"We will not let you die. We'll carry you 
Unto some hospital and have your wounds 
Bound up and save your life." "Not so," said he. 
My life is scarcely worth the saving now. 
My trade was laying brick before I came 
To war, and now you see one hand is gone. 
How could I earn my bread? I would be but 
A charge upon my dear, beloved king, 
Besides my comrades all are here at rest 
And I will here remain — /'ve done mp besC* 



Said I to Carnage, "How can this thing be? 
Can brave good men be sacrificed like this?" 
To which he made reply: "The sacrifice 
Of brave, good men by thousands are as chaff 
Blown in the eyes of enemies to blind. 
And busy them while breach upon their line 
Is made elsewhere. But we must hasten on." 



The Dream Twenty-seven 



By careful strides across this sodden field 
Bestrewn with men and panoply of war. 
We came at last unto a river bank. 
Where Carnage made a light. We looked about 
And then I asked: "What land is this?" Said he. 
"This land was once the fair abiding place 
Of many thousand happy peasant folk ; 
But now, alas, 'tis called *Aceldama,* 
Which signifies a cursed field of blood. 
For many years henceforth it will produce 
Accursed things : no man can dwell herein. 
The products of this soil will taste of blood 
And even Easter lilies grown hereon. 
Instead of being white, will bloom blood Ted. 

Resuming staff and lantern then he said, 

"The first gray glint of dawn I now behold 

Appearing in the east, and I must go 

And start the strife, and urge the wave of war 

For fear if I but let them even pause 

To contemplate the reason or the cause 

Of this gigantic struggle among men 

They would at once refuse to fight, and then 

What would become of all the armament 

And panoply of war? The government 

Of men by force would be forever past 



Twenty-eight The Dream 



And 'Peace on Earth' would be proclaimed at 

last."^^ 
"And now,*' said he, "proceed along this road 
Beside this river bank, and when the day 
Is done I will assume my role as guide. 
Let me admonish you before we part 
To be discreet and courteous in your mien 
To every one you meet, and act your part. 
For much depends upon your mode of speech 
And attitude to people in this land. 
The people here are not in love with kings — 
They rate them only by the good they do. 
Not by their power divine, which they misdoubt ; 
Therefore, be only what you seem to be. 
Not what you really are; and now goodbye." 



And he was gone ; he disappeared as soon 
And in the same mysterious way as he 
Appeared the night before, and I walked on 
As best I could ; a weary, foot-sore King. 
And meditating on the past, I thought 
What is it all when all is done? This strife 
This wholesale slaughter of the human race. 
Perhaps I erred in uttering the word 



The Dream Tweniy-nine 

That potent word so easy to proclaim 
And yet when once declared hard to recall. 
Hie sun was rising as I walked along. 
And I could see a distance down the road. 
Where, walking to and fro, I saw a boy ; 
Or what at first I thought to be a boy ; 
With gun and cartridge belt and soldier cap 
As if on guard. I soon saw my mistake 
The soldier was a woman in disguise. 
Or rather in a soldier's uniform. 
Her long, black hair hung loosely down her back 
Which waving in the breeze disclosed her sex. 
As I approached she halted me and said, 
*'Stand there, and truly answer on your life 
If you have seen the king, and when, and where. 
And you must answer make before you pass. 
For I must know if he be on his way.'* 
Said I to her, "Please look at me again. 
This radiant morning light affects your sight. 
What should I know of kings? Am I so fine? 
Is this the garb that peasants wear when called 
Before the King? But wherefore do you ask?" 



Thirty The Dream 



"Because," said she, "I am the chosen one. 
And I have made a vow to rid the world 
Of this outrageous King; this fiend, this hrule^ 
Who causes all this blood-shed and this strife. 
And devastates and ruins all the land. 
The "voices" say that he will surely come 
Adown this path, so I stand here on guard 
To kill him with this gun as I have vowed. 
If you know naught of him then you may pass." 



"Thank you," said I, "but e*er I go, perhaps 
You would be pleased to tell me how this King 
Has injured you and won your enmity. 
Have you lost any friends in this sad war?" 
"Oh sir; lost any friends? I have lost all. 
My father, and my husband, and my babe. 
And I would gladly lay me down and die. 
But I have made a solemn vow to kill 
This cruel King and I must keep that vow." 
"Why should you blame the king, what has he 

done," 
Sciid I, "Did he deprive you of your friends?" 



The Dream Thirty-one 



**Oh sir, you are a simple peasant man 

Else you would know how kings destroy and kill. 

Some thirty days ago, which now seems like 

A thousand years (if measured by my grief, 

'Tis more) this cruel king, whom I await. 

Sent hordes and hordes of cruel brutes called men 

Into our land to devastate and kill 

Our people who had thought he was our friend — 

Nor gave a moment's warning, but fell to 

And killed us off assigning no just cause 

Except that we stood in his royal way. 

Like some respected parent catching up 

A trusting child and beating it to death. 

And at the first alarm my husband joined 

The band of brave young men who tried to stop 

The onrush of the mighty horde and save 

If possible the lives of dear ones left 

Behind. Alas! unequal was the strife. 

We soon were driven from our happy homes 

Like unfledged birdlings shaken from their nests. 

Then came a band of horsemen through our town. 

My father with my babe upon his back 

Assayed to cross the street in front of them 

When they, like many others, were cut down 

And killed. Then came I to the battle front 

To find my husband, and I found him here 



Thirty -two The Dream 



And buried him behind that little hut. 
And donned his clothes and cap, and took his gun 
And made a solemn vow to kill the king 
Whom all the "voices" say must come this way- — 
But I have wearied you? You look distressed 
And your poor feet, you must be lame, indeed. 
Take thou this gun and guard this road with care 
While I go to this hut and get for you 
A pair of shoes. And should you see the King 
Approaching you, begin to shoot, and shoot 
To kill. No mercy he deserves ; and you may know 
Him by this picture here. I tore it from 
A book. See how he is arrayed ; gold lace ; 
Gold cord ; gold buttons and gold medals, too,** 
And here she drew a picture of myself 
From out her bosom and presented it. 
And so I stood on guard against myself, 
My real self and knew at last my worth 
As rated by the people I oppressed. 
She soon returned, bringing a pair of shoes 
Also a pail of water; then she said, 
"Sit down upon this bank, and I will bathe 
Your feet, for nothing must defile these shoes, 
Inside at least, for they are sacred shoes. 
The man who wore these shoes was brave and true. 
And pure of heart; these were my husband's 
shoes — 



The Dream Thirty-three 



How many, many pathways have they trod 
Of mercy and true service unto God." 



And standing there she held the shoes aloft 
And prayed, "Oh Lord, please sanctify these 

shoes 
Unto the use of this poor peasant man. 
And let them bear him to his home and friends 
As they did bear my husband to his death.'* 



And as she talked and worked I heard the roar 
Of cannon in the distance, and I said, 
"Do you not hear the battle raging now?" 
"Oh yes, but that is naught to me," she said, 
"I'm chosen, and put here to kill the King.'* 



And now arising from her task she said, 
"If you were King of Kings you could not be 
More sacredly or honorably shod. 
And I would give you food, but sad to say. 
My last black bread was eaten yesterday. 



Thirty-four The Dream 



And there I stood a broken-hearted king, 
And taking from my neck a golden chain 
From which suspended hung an iron cross. 
And clasping it about her neck I said, 
"Please wear this chain, 'tis all I have to give 
For you must see that I am poor indeed. 
And if you are in need, or sore oppressed. 
Display this cross that hangs suspended here 
In any camp on this side of the line 
And all your wants will be supplied forthwith. 
The token they will recognize at once. 
For they will know what peasant(?) gave you 
this." 



And thus we parted and I went my way. 
For now the sun was up and it was day. 
Yet 'twas a blood red sun, and in the West 
A half a dozen other suns appeared. 
Or so they seemed — those burning villages. 
And as I walked along my thoughts ran thus, 
*'How has the mighty fallen, a mighty King 
Most thankful for a pair of peasant shoes." 



The Dream Thirty-five 

And now I came upon some soldiers who 

Were dragging a disabled gun along. 

Upon the frame of which a dead man lay; 

And over him a flag I recognized 

Was draped with care. They halted me 

And asked about the roads. "TTie roads," said I, 

"I am a stranger in these parts. I have 

No knowledge of the roads. Why do you ask?'* 

"At high noon yesterday we were sent forth 

To take this gun, and bring it in," they said. 

"We were a thousand then, and now you see 

We are but thirty men. We got this gun and flag 

But lost our dear commander who lies there 

Beneath that flag. The pontoon where we crossed 

Was shot away so we were then compelled 

To make this wide detour to cross this stream" — 

And on they went a weary funeral band. 



"My God," said I, "What sacrifice is this. 
Nine hundred and seventy men for one 
Old broken gun and one old tattered flag!" 



Thirty-six The Dream 

The day wore on and I went on my way 

As one may walk and yet be sound asleep 

And dreaming that he dreams. And now I came 

Upon another slaughter yard bestrewn 

With dead men piled in winrows and in heaps 

And little pools of blood lay all about. 

Or bloody water as it proved to be ; 

And dancing through these pools a maiden fair 

I saw, and wondered at her crazy pranks — 

As I came up she stood barefooted in 

A pool of blood and sang to me this song, — 



SONG 

'*I love my little sister best of all, 
But now she's gone ; gone to her happy home. 
She will not come though I may call, and call. 
And though I sing for her she will not come.** 



And many times she sang this selfsame verse 
As she went dancing through the pools of blood. 
At eventide I came upon a scene 



The Dream Thirty-seven 

Which halted me, and caused me much surprise. 

Within a little garden patch I saw, 

Reclining on a massive slab of stone, 

A dog. He seemed in size quite lion-like 

And yet as lean as any winter wolf — 

And just beyond the hedge I saw a man 

At work upon his broken cottage roof. 

Said I, *'Good man, why does this dog lie here 

Upon this slab of stone?" *'Oh, that," said he. 

Was once the door-stone to a home like this ; 

And when the battle raged not far away 

A shell came hurtling through the air 

And tore it all to bits and burned it up; 

And killed the inmates all, — except a girl 

Of sixteen years of age (and this brave dog). 

Who at the time was in the village there 

Delivering the milk, for it was then 

The evening hour, as it is now. When they 

Returned the girl went mad, and he lay down 

Upon that stone, his usual place, and though 

We call and call he will not come away. 

And though we place him food he will not eat. 

But at the usual hour he stands beside 

His cart in which he used to haul the milk 

And looks about expectantly, and then 

Returns to guard the spot that once was home. 



Thirty-eight The Dream 



Sometimes he will arise and wag his tail 
As if he saw a friend, and march around 
The yard, from place to place, as once he did. 
Preceded by his master. Then again 
He stands beside that old armchair you see 
Within that shady arbor at the rear 
And rests his head upon the arm thereof 
And wags his tail, as if he yet could see 
The grandame who was wont to sit 
And do her knitting there ; again he stands 
And looks up in the air and cries like one 
Bereft, at something rve can never see.** 



■*— 



*'How many lived within that cot?*' said I. 
*'The father, mother, grandame and two girls; 
The eldest girl whom I said lost her mind. 
Also a winsome little girl of five." 
*' *Tis passing strange about the dog,** said I. 
** 'Tis strange," said he; *'and when I contem- 
plate 
The character of dogs, their faithfulness. 
Integrity, and care, I sometimes think 



The Dream Thirty -nine 

The great Creator made a sad mistake 

And gave the hearts he made for men to dogs. 

And those he made for dogs he gave to men ; 

Especially am I convinced of this 

When I consider kings who made the wars." 

'Twas almost night, the man had quit his work. 

And we were standing by his cottage gate. 

"Come in and sup and bide with us the night,*' 

Said he; "such as we have you're welcome to.'* 

Tlie frugal meal was soon dispatched, and I, 

While seated there upon a peasant's chair. 

Was trying hard to reconcile myself 

To my new role in life, — the peasant life — 

When there before me stood the "God of Strife,'* 

Red carnage ; there he stood and no mistake ; 

And then I knew I must be on my way ; 

So, rising and removing from my hand 

A signet ring, I said unto my host, 

"My friend, I wish to leave with you this ring 

In payment for your kindness unto me. 

And should you be oppressed or in distress 

Display this ring, and stand erect, your hands 

Outstretched and clasping in the air as if 

Your object was to gather all the world 

In your embrace ; turning your body round 

The while, and let your gaze fall far afield ; 



Forty The Dream 

My people all will understand the sign 
And recognize the ring, and give you aid.*' 
At which he said, "Do you go forth alone?'* 
And then I knew that Carnage was unseen 
By every mortal eye except my own. 
And I said, "No, I will have company.** 
When I turned to go. Carnage faded through 
The door, it being shut, and disappeared. 
And then I knew just how he had come in. 



And when at last I stood outside the door 
My host arose, and, lifting both his hands. 
Invoked a blessing from on high. He said, 
"Oh, Lord, vouchsafe a blessing on the head 
Of this poor peasant man and go with him 
And guard him well upon his journey home. 
And bide with him in peace forever there." 



Outside the gate my guide was waiting me. 
And, like the night before, we marched along. 
Through many ruined villages we passed. 
The blackened, broken walls of which revealed 



The Dream Foriy-one 



The ravages of war. No sound was heard; 

No h'ghts appeared ; a stillness as of death 

Hung over ail. And yet when Carnage made 

A light we saw pale, ghostlike faces at 

The broken basement windows attracted by 

Our light ; gaunt and hungry, and frightened, too. 

As if they feared the enemy's return. 

We came at length unto a river bank. 

Where Carnage made a light, and I could see 

Dead bodies floating on the tide. Said I, 

*'What place is this?" and then he made reply, 

"This was a land of peace and plenty once — 

The very garden spot of all the world. 

For many generations this fair land 

Had never been at war, or had a foe 

And all the other nations signed a bond 

And made decree that this land should be free 

From molestation and be neutral ground. 

And so these simple minded farmer folk, 

Trusting all, went forth each day to labor 

In their fields and gardens fair, and live in peace. 

Forgetting that the world is full of hate. 

Ambition, jealousy, avarice and pride — 

Forgetting, too, that kings are arbiters 

And rule by rights divine. A king is one 

Who has the right divine to lie, and lie ; 



Forty -two The Dream 

To lie with tongue and lie with pen at will. 
And kill the men who murmur at his power. 



**Come, now,'* said he; "a little farther down 

And I will show you something strange indeed. 

We're nearing now the ocean, where the tides 

Wash back the sands and form somewhat of bars 

Across this river bed. At one of these 

A bridge unique is formed, which you must cross. 

He thrust his staff into the ground and there 

Appeared a veritable bridge of men ; 

Dead soldiers lying stranded on the bar. 

"Take off your shoes," he said, and I obeyed. 

*'Upon that little island over there. 

You'll find a pit where once a battery 

Was planted. Within this pit you may secrete 

Yourself and watch the slaughter of tomorrow. 

For this is very near the firing line." 



And now that gruesome sight remains with me — 
That bridge of dead men lying side by side — 
And I can yet recall the guilt and shame 



The Dream Forty-three 

And horror of it all, as I, their king. 
With naked feet walked on their prostrate forms. 
And when at last I stood beside the pit 
Red Carnage stood beside me with his light. 
"You may descend by those stone steps," he said. 
On looking down I saw the forms of men 
In uniform. "Why should I here remain 
Among the dead, and in this awful place?" 
"For two good reasons, or so they seem to me. 
The first, that you may see how men are killed — 
How quickly they do barter life for death. 
And with what seeming cheerfulness at that. 
They ride with lances set, or sabres drawn. 
And sing and shout 'Hurrah !' like boys at play. 
One moment they seem filled with life and 

strength ; 
The next, they and their horses are quite dead. 
And piled in heaps for some one to inter. 
The second and more cogent reason is 
That you may meditate upon your life that's past. 
And also on your life to come. This spot 
Is truly fit for meditative thought ; 
And you have need of thought, in retrospect 
At least. Your reign as king is now almost 
Expired, and you must reparation make. 
In part at least for errors in the past. 



Forty-four The Dream 

For, although you should live a thousand years 
And do some noble deed each day and hour. 
You could no more than balance the account. 
Your people, when this war is at an end. 
Will ask you for your sceptre and your crown. 
And my advice to you is to forestall 
Them by the abdication of your throne. 
Call all your armies home and sue for peace, — 
And this from me who loves to see blood flow. 
Fresh blood to me is sweeter than pure wine. 
But I am weary off it all ; my thirst 
Is satisfied, and I am sic^ at heart.** 

A flash and he was gone, and there I sat 

In lonely silence waiting for the dawn. 

A dim, deceptive light cast by the stars 

Into this dismal place made dead men move. 

Or seem to move, and then I heard a voice. 

"Oh, King, (for thou art yet a king, indeed. 

Despite thy peasant garb) attention give 

While we relate the horrors you excite. 

You may have seen the blood stained rivers flow ; 

^'ou may have seen dead soldiers piled in heaps ; 

And ships destroyed and sailors drowned like rats ; 



The Dream Forty-five 



And yet the real horror of your act 

In bringing on this wanton holocaust. 

This wholesale murder you define as war. 

Is not observed upon the field of strife. 

Nor on the sea, for dead men suffer not. 

The suffering is all left in the wake 

Of war, the innocent and helpless ones ; 

The aged ones, the cripples, and the babes 

Who starve because protectors are killed off. 

If you could only go with us and see 

The pallid, wasted faces of the dead. 

Who simply starve to death for want of bread ; 

And see a wailing infant try to draw 

Life's sustenance from its dead mother's breast. 

Then you could better judge of the effects 

Of this foul strife you designate as war. 

"Who speaks," said I, and then the answer came: 

"I am called 'Avatar,' because I know 

The art whereby we may hold intercourse 

With those who yet remain upon the earth. 

I read the thoughts of angels on this side 

And put them into words for mortal ears. 

We have no words ; there's no concealment here. 

On earth we know that words are often used 

By diplomats, more to conceal their thoughts 

Than to reveal them. I was speaking for 



Forty-six The Dream 



A friend of yours just now, who knew you well^ — 
A friend who knew and loved you long ago, 
Before ambition ossified your heart. 
And love of fame had calcified your soul. 
"Who is this angel friend of mine?" I asked, 
*'We have new names upon this side," he said, 
*'And we forget and often make mistakes. 
But if you will but look steadfastly at 
The wall in front of you, I will portray 
Your friend, if I can so control the light." 
At first there came upon the wall a pale 
Gray, misty light, which grew intensely white. 
In which appeared a form and face I knew 
Despite the lapse of years. The sweet blue eyes. 
The wealth of flaxen hair, and rose-bud mouth 
Revealed to me a playmate of my youth. 
" 'Tis Gretchen," then said I; and while I gazed 
The light began to fade and soon was gone. 
"My God!" said I; "are we so close to heaven?" 
" 'Tis but a step," said Avatar; "and yet 
Sometimes that step is very hard to take. 
The angel you call 'Gretchen' we call 'Peace,* 
Or 'Saint Pacifico,' which means the same. 
Together with three other saints as fair 
She watches over you with constant care. 
No matter how you go, or when, or where. 



The Dream Forty-seven 

One or more of them are certain to be there ; 
Therefore, be careful where you walk. Goodbye." 



I now could see the first gray glint of dawn. 
And all at once the guns began to roar 
In testimony that the strife was on 
Again, and I resolved to go straight home. 
If I, by any means, could find my way. 
And stop, if possible, this holocaust. 



Advancing to the river I beheld 
That gruesome sight — that bridge of men — 
My heart misgave me, and I said I'd swim; 
So in I plunged and struck out fairly well ; 
Yet I had not gone very far before 
I noticed that my body came in touch 
With other forms, and then I realized 
That I was swimming there among the dead. 
Who lay beneath the surface out of sight. 
And that my feet and legs were being held. 
And that my strength was giving out ; and then 
My head went imder, and I heard the roar 



Forty-eight The Dream 

Of cannon less distinctly than before. 

I knew that I was sinking, but swam on ; 

And just as I was giving up the fight. 

And when my lungs seemed bursting for a breath 

My feet struck land, and I was soon upon 

The beach, face down, exhausted and half dead. 

When I regained my breath I stood erect 

And there before me in a garb of black. 

With sad and gloomy face, a man appeared. 

The lines of sorrow in his face were deep. 

His long, black cloak, his arms crossed on his 

breast. 
And sad, far-seeing eyes made him appear 
So strange and grand. Said I, "Who honors me?'* 
Then he replied, "They called me 'Prince of 

Woe' 
When I was on the earth long, long ago. 
"A man of many sorrows, and indeed 
I have my cares. Come now with me," he said. 
Said I, "Please wait; I left a pair of shoes 
Just here somewhere, — a pair of sacred shoes 
A peasant woman gave me yesterday." 
*'You will not need your shoes henceforth," he 

said. 
"Your journey now will be upon a road 
So beaten down by many thousand feet 



The Dream Forty-nine 

And worn so smooth by travelers each day 
That shoes would be a superfluity." 
"But can I not by some means dry my clothes?** 
Said I, in desperation and despair. 
"Your raiment will become so bothersome 
And dry and hot, unless by frequent baths 
You moisten it, that you will cease to take 
Much care concerning it, and cast it off 
When once you are within that special place 
Which I have had prepared for you," he said. 
"Are we so near to Hades, sir?" I said. 
"You are in Hades even now," said he; 
"Since when you looked upon that pictured wall 
And saw that angel face, and knew yourself 
To be the cruel monster that you are. 
And penitence sought refuge in your soul; 
And since your heart is burdened with remorse, 
You have been in Hades all the while. 
Hell has no torture greater than remorse. 
But, come," he said ; "we must be on our way ; 
The walk is only just a pleasant one, 
TTie grade, you will observe, is always down. 
'Tis easy to descend, but hard to climb.'* 
And then I saw the road was filled with forms — 
With astral forms of men and women both. 
Some danced along with ribald song, as though 



Fifty The Dream 



They were upon some day of pleasure bent. 
While others, with a stolid mien, walked on 
In silence down the way, as if to say, 
*'What do I care; 'tis all the same to me." 
Yet others, with a leer from ear to ear 
Intended for a smile, friends to beguile 
(Resembling more the steel jaws of a trap). 
With jaunty tread and tossing head went by. 
And yet another class with furtive glance 
Slipped past, with eyes as keen as any fox. 
And savage, bestial faces with a scowl ; 
Licentious faces, brutalized with lust. 
And yet, in not one face could I discern 
The slightest shade of sorrow or remorse. 
And then said I, **Where do these people go?'* 
Said he, "Unto their places down below." 
**But why are they not sorrowful or sad? — 
They seem to act as natural as life." 
And then he said, "Transition changes naught. 
As they were there on earth so are they here. 
Without repentance they can never change. 
The truly penitent come not this way. 
But they are met upon this side by those 
Who guide them to a higher plane at once. 
These, too, may at some future time be helped ; 
But they must their allotted time remain 



The Dream Fifiy-one 

In darkness and despair ; it is the law — 

The law of compensation still obtains, 

And evolution is the only law 

By which to work reform in any life. 

And now we came unto a massive wall. 

In which were many doors, and over each 

A name of some celebrity was carved. 

The first, **Caligula;" then "Nero" came; 

Then "Hannibal," "Alexander, the Great," 

"Phillip, the Fair," and "Philip Second of 

Spain ; 
And lastly but not least, "Napoleon's" home. 
And then we paused before a door unmarked. 
Which opened at his lightest touch. "Walk in," 
Said he. "This is your place ; your name shall be 
Inscribed above the door, should you remain." 
"Remain," said I; "why should I remain?" 
"For penance sake; your sins have brought you 

here, 
And your transgressions are the crimson kind. 
And must be cleansed with blood." "Sit down," 

said he, 
"And I will straightway have your bath pre- 
pared." 
"My God," said I; "is this the doom of kings?" 
"For jealous and ambitious kings," said he. 



Fifty -two The Dream 



And then I sat before a marble tank 
Down into which a set of marble steps 
Descended; a mighty King in Hades. 

Hie room was long and narrow, and the light, 
A deep red glow, came from the distant end ; 
From where I sat, and by its aid I saw 
An army of red imps with pails of blood 
Come in and pour the liquid in the tank — 

First Imp: 

"Oh, King! I bring you here the blood 

Of soldiers brave and true, 
Who bravely in the front ranks stood 

And fought and died for you." 

Second Imp : 

"I bring you here the blood of men, 

Of German sailors true. 
Who bravely fought and died, and then 

We brought their blood to you." 

Third Imp : 

"Here is the blood of an Englishman, 
As red as roast beef rare ; 



The Dream Fifty -three 

Who said I'll do the best I can 
If the fight is fair and square.** 

Fourth Imp: 

*'A Scotchman's blood I bring to you. 

Who marched to his pipes so dear ; 
It is so true, 'tis a trifle blue. 

But 'tis good blood, never fear.** 

Fijlh Imp: 

"I bring you now some Irish blood 

From Tip'rary far away. 
Where wrangling is both drink and food 
And fighting is but play." 

Sixth Imp : 

"Some pure French blood I bring you here. 

Which flows as quick as wine. 
'Twas shed to shield their homes so dear ; 

I'm sure you'll think it fine." 

Seventh Imp : 

"Here is blood from a Hindoo sent. 
Though 'twas obtained unfair — 
Shot at sunrise in front of his tent. 
While on his knees in prayer. 



Fifty-four The Dream 

Eighth Imp : 

"Some blood from the land where cold 
winds blow 
Drawn from a Canadian's veins — 
*Tis pure and clean as the winter's snow 
That covers Albert's plains." 

Ninth Imp : 

"Some Russian blood I bring from the East. 

'Tis strong and if it hath 
No other merit, it will at least 

Add strength unto your bath." 

Tenth Imp : 

"Here is the blood of a lustful Turk, 

So treacherous and black. 
We bring it to show we did not shirk 
And the mixture might not lack." 

Eleventh Imp: 

"Some Austrian blood I pour herein; 

You see it is thin and light ; 
'Tis just such blood that wars begin. 

Then stand back to see the fight." 



The Dream Fifiy-five 

Twelfth Imp: 

"Here is some Servian blood I bring. 

Of patriots brave and grand ; 
They stayed the hand of a grasping King 

Who coveted their land." 

Thirteenth Imp: 

"Here is some innocent Belgian blood, 

To sweeten this bath so rare. 
Spare not its use — their land's aflood 
With innocent, inoffensive blood — 

There's plenty more to spare." 

And now the "Man of many sorrows" came. 
And said to me, "Your bath is now prepared; 
Here will you bathe, and after every bath 
A drop of pure water will be added — 
Therefore, in time you will be purified; 
Your bed will be upon the bayonets 
With which the place is strewn; and now good- 
bye." 

At last alone I sat, a peasant king. 
Confronted by my bath, — a gruesome thing — 
Where I must bathe and bathe ten thousand years 
To expiate my sins ; and now my tears 



Fifiy-six The Dream 

Began to flow — repentance was complete — 
And, kneeling down, I sought relief in prayer ; 
And while I asked Almighty God to send 
Deliverance, I felt an icy breath 
Of air upon my neck and cheek ; 
And looking up I saw three angel forms ; 
Their raiment was as brilliant as the sun ; 
Their smiling faces seemed direct from heaven. 
Their presence lighted up the dismal place. 
And so astonished me I could not speak. 
They, seeing my embarrassment, began — 

First Angel: 

"The man of many sorrows heard your 

prayer. 
And sent us to administer to you. 
My name is Penitence ; my duties are 
To see that all repentance is sincere. 
To pass upon petitions, and to see 
If they are from the head and not the heart. 
Or if they truly flow from heart and soul. 
Then I may justify the suppliant. 

Second Angel: 

My name is Justice, and my duties are 

To look into the penitential heart 

And ascertain how much of hate remains — 



The Dream Fifty-seven 

Or vanity, or love of self, or pride; 

Or jealousy, or avarice, or spite ; 

And should I find that none of these appear. 

Then I must count the virtues that I find. 

If I should find humility and love 

Of neighbors, and respect of others' rights 

As equal to his own, and a desire 

To make full restitution for all wrongs. 

And restoration of all gains by force. 

Then I must let him pass, not otherwise.** 

Third Angel: 

"My name is Mercy, and my duties are 
To look into the soul of every man 
Who supplicates Almighty God in prayer, 
And see how much sincerity is there ; 
And ascertain the motive or intent 
Which prompts his every act, both good 

and bad — 
For good may sometimes come where wrong 

is meant. 
And error often fetters good intent. 
And wordy supplications without love 
Are wasted words; they are not heard 

above. 



Fifiy-eighi The Dream 

But secret prayer, if on contrition fed. 

Is heard on high before the words are said." 

Another flash of Hght and there appeared 
Dear Saint Pacifico ; whom I revered. 
With sweet forgiving pity in her face. 
And thus began the pleading of my case'* — 

Saint Pacifico : 

**l\e known this penitent from early youth 
And all his acts, and all his pride, forsooth : 
His pride was in his country, not himself; 
His acts were all for honor, not for pelf. 
And though he seems to act a brutal part 
His sins are of the head, not of the heart. 
Could you but understand his full intent 
And know the power of his environment. 
And know the school in which his every thought 
Was trained for war. Tlie school in which 

was wrought 
This scheme of subjugation of the world. 
Your mercy would incite you to withhold 
Your censure till the truth was known. 
And take him back and place him on his 

throne.** 



The Dream Fifiy-nine 

And so they bound me with their silken scarfs 
And took me home, and placed me on my throne. 
Where I awoke to find myself alone. 
In sad bewilderment, and yet as one 
Who finds sweet joy in power to atone. 




Sixty Epilogue 



EPILOGUE 



His first act was to call his army home ; 

And then he called his rulers unto him — 

His war-lords and his princes — then he said, 

"Make thou a constitution and a law 

That will give every man an equal right 

To life and liberty ; give him the right 

To worship God in any sacred way 

His soul dictates, no matter what his creed. 

Make thou the right of franchise universal. 

And guard with care the sacred rights of home. 

For I have made a sacred, solemn vow 

To make what restitution that I may. 

And to restore so far as in my power lies. 

To every one who suffered by my acts ; 

An equal compensation for his loss. 

And I hereby a proclamation make 

And ask for peace, not supplicate, but dare . 

My people are not vanquished, nor can they be; 

But I am weary of this slaughter in 

A brother's cause who drove me into it. 



Epilogue Sixty-one 



And if any ruler of any land 
Has bravery enough to abdicate 
His throne, and let his people rule the land. 
Let him come forth and take me by the hand, 
For here and now I lay my power down 
And tender you my sceptre and my crown. 
To all the hosts of heaven proclaim it now 
TTiat they may know how well I kept my vow. 




Sixty-iwo Conclusion 

CONCLUSION 

And one by one the crowned heads followed 
suit, and laid their crown and sceptre at the feet 
of their people, and bade them rule themselves by 
constitution and by law, and that is why we have 
at The Hague a Congress or Parliament in con- 
stant Session, whereat all nations are represented, 
and whereat all differences, be they political, com- 
mercial or theological, which baffle diplomacy, 
may be settled by a high court of justice, or by 
arbitration, without war or bloodshed, and where- 
at international laws are enacted for the govern- 
ment and protection of commerce, both on land 
and sea; and a universal system of weights and 
measures; a universal monetary system which 
makes one nation's money good and at par with 
all other nations; an international police force 
controlling munitions of war on land and sea, and 
who are empowered and commanded to keep the 
peace in every land, that we may turn our atten- 
tion to the constructive principles of life and 
thereby complete the federation of the world. 



Finale Sixty -three 



FINALE 

If you should ask me if I thought a dream 
Could make the nations hesitate or pause, 
I'd say, "You'll find, if you pursue the theme, 
'Twas instigated by that selfsame cause. 



